


The Expendables

by Holdingoutforavillain



Category: The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Amanda Waller needs a drink, Beyonce - Freeform, Cardi B references, Diabetes, Folded Man needs more comics, Homophobia, McDonald's, So much rap, Suicide Squad take 2, Tangles, autistic characters, gay slurs, the Rogues are family, vigorous swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-09-13 21:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16900461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdingoutforavillain/pseuds/Holdingoutforavillain
Summary: The Suicide Squad was a success. When Amanda Waller was instructed by the higher ups that she would be forming another team of villains, she was prepared to deal with the best. When she was told her team would consist of Iron Heights' least effective villains, who the Rogues would hardly touch, Amanda downed a bottle of wine. But, she'll still pull the team together. No challenge is too hard for the Wall.





	1. Rude Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a WIP, but I hope you enjoy it!

Amanda Waller doesn't feel sympathy for those around her. Sympathy leads to attachment, attachment leads to emotion, and, in her line of work, emotion is synonymous with failure. Knowing that, she can't help the pity that flows through her when she forces herself to look at the sorry sons of bitches she has lying unconscious on her floor.

    Rainbow Raider is the first awake, and somehow manages to make Amanda regret every decision she's ever made in her entire life, with his exclamation of "Good golly, Miss Molly, this ain't good!"

    Of course, this jolts Folded Man awake, leading the man to flatten his body against the floor while screaming a muffled version of the L-rd's prayer.

    Amanda resists the temptation to actually cover her face, thankful that her office that faces the Squad Debriefing room is secure enough that only one guard is posted near her, and he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

    Magenta raises her head, looking around the room, before looking down at her grey jumpsuit. She sighs, and hits her head on the ground with a clang.  
"....ow."

    Girder actually stands, putting his hands on his hips as he eyes the room's only exit, and Amanda can see the glint of leadership in his eyes. She can tell he's going to be a problem the second he offers a hand to Folded Man, who immediately peels himself off the ground, and stands with Girder's help.

    Tar Pit stands next, placing himself at Girder's side, eyeing Murmur as the man opens his eyes, and lifts his head slightly.

    Tar Pit snarls, and Murmur stills, curls into a fetal position.

    Double Down wakes up next, cards swirling around him as he scrambles to his feet.

    Girder meets his eyes, and Amanda watches his throat as he swallows.

    Double Down's cards rejoin his body, and he presses his hands to his forehead as he (presumably) attempts to remember exactly which alcohol he consumed immediately prior could account for the pain in his neck and his lapse in memory.

    "Fuck..."

    "Head?"

    "Whole body."

    Amanda runs her finger over her failsafe controller, and glances over at her bright yellow envelope with the words _Jeremy Tell (heavy drinker)_ written in red sharpie.

    When Fury blinks his eyes open, Amanda stands, watching how the other react to him.

    Double Down offers him a hand, but Fury ignores it, standing.

    Double Down mutters something rude, and Fury whips towards him.

    Amanda decides to turn away, presuming that she'll land downstairs before either man ends up with a fatal injury.

    Her guard opens the elevator, and ducks inside.

    Amanda's heels click over the threshold of the elevator, and when her guard moves to press the first floor button, Amanda gets a glimpse of how clammy his hand is.

    She leans backwards, her hands gripping the rails.

    "First day?" she asks with a tone she hoped wasn't friendly, nor antagonistic.

    "First day with the actual criminals, ma'am," he responds.

    "Well, you have nothing to worry about. These folks aren't exactly Suicide Squad."

    "What are they?"

    "About to get their only chance to prove they aren't the fuck ups everybody thinks they are," she says as she steps outside the elevator.

    "You can stay out here," she told the guard. "I recommend it. This goes smoother with just me."

    "Yes, ma'am," he says.

    Amanda smooths her skirt, crosses herself quickly, then pushes the door open.

    She wasn't sure if she was expecting a brawl, or for the group to sit in a circle and braid each other's hair, but she certainly didn't expect to find them huddled around Girder who was frozen mid-sentence, pointing to the door.

    Amanda's quick glance noted that Murmur hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, and that Fury has a bleeding nose, and Double Down has a split lip and black eye.

    "Gentleman. Magenta. I'm Amanda Waller," she says, making eye contact with Girder.

    "Fuck does that mean?" Fury asks.

    "Hi!" Magenta squeaks.

    "Hello. Have you ever heard of the Suicide Squad?" Amanda replies.

    Magenta gasps, hopping up three times. "Do we get to be Suicide Squad? We could be heroes!"

    The others slowly turn to stare at her.

    " _I_ could be a superhero," she corrects meekly.

    "You could be heroes. All of you. If you can prove yourselves to me," Amanda says.

    "Why would we want to be heroes?" Girder asks.

    Amanda smiles her least sinister smile. He was considering it.

    "I'm going to ignore the remote controlled bombs in your necks, because that should be implied-"

    "The fucking what?" Fury asks.

    "Oh L-rd," Folded Man shakes his head.

    "And focus on your careers as villains," Amanda finishes.

    "That's not a very exciting genre," Rainbow Raider says.

    "Hey, Roy?" Double Down hisses.

    "Yes?"

    "Shut it."

    "Please. If you aren't good enough for the the Rogues, you need to reevaluate your life trajectory. And none of you were good enough for the Rogues. This is how you change things," Amanda says.

    "What's that supposed to mean?" Double Down asks.

    "You can make something of yourselves. With my help, of course," Amanda says.

    "She's got a point," Girder says.

    "Do we have anything to lose?" Folded Man says.

    "Do we have a choice?" Tar Pit asks.

    "I'm in!" Magenta says.

    "Me too," Rainbow Raider adds.

    "Why not?" Double Down says.

    "Better than fucking prison," Fury says.

    They turn towards Murmur, who was sitting up, staring at them. He gave a tiny inclination of his head.

    "We're in," Girder says. Now what?"

    Amanda smiles darkly, and she turns towards the door.

    "Follow me," she says, "and do as I say."


	2. Mission 1: Briefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda's team board a plane, and learn what their job will really entail.

Amanda stands at the front of the aircraft, her arms tucked behind her back, while her team strap themselves in, adjusting their new clothing.

Magenta seems over the moon about her new white and purple body suit, and her the purple hood sits around her shoulders, as she pokes at her gloves.

Amanda wonders if Magenta knows the gloves can stop her powers from working, but she doesn't ask. Magenta calmed down slightly once she finished her third Red Bull, which she got from a six pack at the cafeteria of the hanger where they boarded the plane.

Next to Magenta, Girder ties his hair behind his head, before his hands return to grip his shorts tightly.

At Amanda's quizzical glance, he offers, "I don't like to fly."

"The fear of flying is physiologically linked to the fear of loosing control of ones life," Amanda says.

Girder scoffs. "Yeah, that stopped scaring me the moment I got these damn powers."

"Mh," Tar Pit agrees.

Tar Pit just seems happy to have his fire back again, and he has three seats all to himself.

Amanda couldn't believe how much food the man had to eat to fuel his powers, and wondered how he survived on prison food.

At the back of the plain, Rainbow Raider keeps sucking in his stomach to see how it looks in his black body suit, and his white goggles rest on his forehead.

"I need to go vegan," he says.

"Ooh-"

"Magenta, I will not be eating your cooking."

Amanda took extra time commissioning Rainbow Raider's costume, to put as little rainbow print on it as humanly possible, culminating in one rainbow stripe going down his tight glove. Despite her efforts, he still stands out like a sore thumb.

Murmur sits next to him, his white mask covering his face, and his black leather costume back on his body. Murmur nods his head in groups of three, and Amanda swears she can feel his eyes darting around.

On Amanda's left hand side, Double Down smooths his hair, shirtless under his black vest, revealing his cards.

Amanda regrets not giving him a shirt, not to mention his skinny jeans, and refuses to meet his eyes.

Fury sits next to him, his eyes focused on the floor as he taps his fingers against his blue pants, and wears his red and blue jacket around his shoulders, over his white tank top.

Folded Man sits next to him, the fabric of his costume dangling under his arms. He stays quiet, his mind undoubtedly racing as he sways.

Amanda hears a beep from the front of the plane, and settles into her own seat. She doesn't bother strapping in, and crosses her legs, her right heel flat on the floor.

"In case you weren't already aware, my name is Amanda. Amanda Waller. You may call me Miss Waller, Warden, or the Wall. Anything short of that will result in a rapid worsening of circumstances for this entire team. You will each receive an earpiece activated by tapping once to join the channel, and again to end it. Your conversations will be recorded for evaluation. Now, to avoid attracting attention to your less-than-stellar reputations, you will either use first names, or code names I allow," Amanda explained. "Anthony 'Tony' Woodward, codename Girder. Frankie Kane, codename Magenta. Joey Monteleone, codename Tar Pit. Roy G. Bivolo, codename Chroma-"

"Aww!" Rainbow Raider interrupts.

"Codename *Chroma*," Amanda repeated. "Dr. Michael Christian Amar, codename Murmur. Jeremy Tell, codename Double Down. Earl Povich, codename Fury. Edwin Gauss, codename Folded Man."

The criminals look at each other, and back at her.

Girder nods his head. "Sounds... good, ma'am. Now, what's the mission?"

Amanda smiles darkly. "I have no reason to assume that simply because you all couldn't break out of jail that you can't perform effectively in the field. With that said, my faith in you is microscopic. The more missions you successfully complete, the more risky they become, and the larger your rewards become-"

"And our rewards are?" Tar Pit asks.

"A place to live, food on the table. Eventually, you'll have freedom to live civilian lives in addition to my missions. Glamour charms and all of necessary."

"I thought those were a myth," Fury says.

"Officially, they are," Amanda says.

"And unofficially?"

"Quite useful."

"I don't believe this! If this goes well, I could publish my work!" Chroma cheers.

"I could open my own club," Double Down says.

"I can cook unsupervised!" Magenta smiles.

"Remember, these aren't your run of the mill bank robberies. You'll be tested in ways you've never experienced. You aren't in Central City anymore. Not even the Rogues will understand what you're about to do," Amanda says.

Folding Man nervously taps his hands together. "How dangerous will our missions be?"

"Well, little miss fragile, I lose pay and effort if you die, so use that genius brain of yours and work out those odds," Amanda answers.

"I'm sensing some hostility, ma'am," Folded Man says.

"The mission, Miss Waller. We just want to know our mission," Girder interrupts.

He looks over at Folded Man, and mouths what Amanda thinks is 'cool it', then turns back to her.

"We're flying to Canada's Luther Hotel and Casino. Owned by Lex himself. They're throwing an opening party that will feature six million dollars worth of jewelry."

"I can't tell where this is going," Chroma whispers loudly.

"Ooh, pretty," Magenta says.

"Nice, money," Double Down says.

"You will be protecting this jewelry from a group of masked gunmen who call themselves the Revolvers," Amanda says. "They have an effect crowd control strategy due to their automatic weapons. You'll have to one up them. Magenta, Chroma, you'll be near the entrance with the greeters. Be nice, you're there to give the Revolvers a false sense of security. Girder, Tar Pit, you'll be the muscle in front of the actual jewelry. Folded Man, Double Down, you'll supervise the casino floor. Double Down, you'll be playing, since we need one person who's undercover. You'll be given a new suit upon landing. Fury, you'll be in the rafters above. You will be equipped with a sniper rifle, for subduing any threat quietly. Murmur, you'll be Mr. Luther's team's personal security, and follow behind him as he meets his guests. You'll be connected via your earpiece, and be in sight of security cameras at all times," Amanda finishes.

The team stays silent, then Murmur begins to rock back and forth, and make shapes with his hands.

Amanda vaguely recognizes it as signing, then Murmur stills, and his hands fall to his side.

"Did anybody catch that?" Amanda asks.

"He says he doesn't want to be with Luther. I mean, he doesn't want to be around all those people," Fury translates.

"You learn that from that Rogue?" Double Down asks, his words are dripping with distain. "The redhead with the dumb name."

"No, it's a hobby," Fury replies sarcastically. "And I'd watch who you say have dumb names, Mr. Card Trick."

"Children, behave," Amanda says.

"Murmur, you won't be interacting with anyone directly. Just stand behind Luther and I, and look as menacing as possible. He'll like you. You might come out of this with a new friend."

Murmur closes his eyes, and sighs silently.

"You'll be there?" Girder asks.

"Luther and I are discussing a business deal. You'll be protecting both of us. Any more questions?" Amanda says.

"How long until we get there?" Tar Pit asks.

"About 3 hours," Amanda says.

The villains nod.

"If we're flying to Canada, do we get new passports?" Magenta asks.

"No, we're crossing the border illegally on the orders of the US Government."

"Aww!" Magenta sighs. "My hair looks great right now."

"Same," Folded Man says.

"Ditto," Chroma says. "Plus this costume shows off my abs."

"What abs?" Fury mutters.

Chroma gives him an icy glare, one Amanda wasn't aware the man could muster.

"I ain't exactly in passport shape," Tar Pit says.

"That's subjective," Magenta says. "I mean-"

"Any more questions pertaining to the mission?" Amanda interrupts.

"I get to keep any winnings, right?" Double Down asks.

"So long as you don't get caught cheating, I really don't care," Amanda says.

"So, what will we do to keep busy during the flight?" Magenta asks.

"Sit in silence?" Amanda suggests hopefully.

"No! That's silly. We should play music, or play a game!" Magenta says. "How 'bout some Cardi?"

"I support that," Tar Pit adds.

"Warden Wolfe claimed you were crazy. Not... whatever this is," Amanda nods towards Magenta.

"Well, I take my meds now, and I self medicate with caffeine. I'm trying to be the best me I can be," Magenta says. "Y'know, white Porsches and carats?"

"That was alarmingly specific," Tar Pit says.

"I try."


	3. Mission 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex Luther needs to stop scheduling events, and Mercy Graves needs a raise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of line breaks in this chapter

Lex Luther is a gentleman. He learned it from his father, the late Lionel, who Amanda remembered fondly. After all, she sympathized with the man's losses in life.

Amanda knows how to wrap many a man around her finger, so when Lex shook her hand and kissed her cheek, she let him, and shook hands with Mercy Graves as well.

"Amanda! It's been to long," Lex says. "I trust this is my security team?"

Mercy clears her throat.

"My _backup_ security team," Lex corrects, "my apologies, Ms. Graves."

"Indeed. Fury, Girder, Tar Pit, Chroma, Magenta, Folded Man," Amanda says, pointing to each in turn. "This is Murmur, he'll be my personal guard. The others have their posts."

"And the undercover unit?"

"Outside. With the rest of the guests," Amanda says.

"Will I be told their name?"

"You do understand the definition of undercover, don't you, Lex?"

"I suppose I do," Lex looks past the glass walls of the hotel, to where the paparazzi huddle, guests wait, and limousines honk.

"To your posts, Ladies and Gentlemen, doors open now."

* * *

Jeremy Tell looks positively ridiculous. His hair gelled, his cards covered completely by a tight tuxedo, Waller even insisted on a pair of glasses whose frames costed more than everything Jeremy had purchased in his life combined.

The winter chill could convince any man to reconsider his actions leading up to that point, and whether he was content with his purpose in life.

A purpose in life was not a goal lost on Jeremy when he was sent to prison. As the days turned to months, and the months to years, any desire for revenge against Flash, or Piper, was lost. In its place, the desire to drink a beer and play a game of blackjack with people he didn't hate became his focus on life.  
He was never great, but he's certainly fallen.

But who was Jeremy Tell to be getting all sentimental?

When the hotel doors opened, he hung back, letting the screaming heiresses and dashing movie stars rush in first, hoping the paparazzi would get distracted, or bored, so his face wouldn't be splashed over the news.

Jeremy could practically see the headline: _"Former Flash Villain Spotted Drinking and Gambling in Lex Luther's New Hotel (photos inside)!"_

Eventually, Jeremy grows bored of glaring at the ground and leaning on an empty limousine like the world's least effective James Bond, he heads toward the double doors.

A photographer gives him a suspicious look, but gets distracted by an heiress throwing a high heel at her face.

Jeremy keeps walking, until he bumps into a rich woman, who winks at him. He gives his sexiest blown kiss back, before they get pushed apart by more waves of the crowd.

"Welcome to the Luther Hotel and Casino!" Chroma says to Jeremy as soon as he steps inside the doors.

"Thanks, Mr..."

"Chroma." Roy smiles a forced smile.

Jeremy leans close to the man. "Rainbow Raider was a dumb fucking name."

"I hate you," Chroma says, the sickly sweet smile not leaving his lips.

Jeremy walks away, glancing over at Magenta, who's fiddling with her ear piece. She gives him a giant grin.

* * *

 

Frances Kane is exhausted. Her very core aches, and she wants to scream and cry and go home and be scared by herself, where no one could see her.

She smiles, and she does mean it. She's glad she out, and she likes her team. They seem high strung, and scared, so she plays nice, and pretends to be louder than she really is, and happier, so they trust her.

She spends a lot of time inside her head, and she knows the others do to, it makes them all the same, no matter their powers (or lack thereof).

She holds onto her communicator, and watches the beautiful rich people stream into the hotel, and she feels every eye on her, and it feels exactly like prison.

She wants to do something, anything, so she's not standing in the front of the room, like a statue for all the people to see.  
When her communicator beeps, she taps it once, and breathes a sign of relief.

_'Private Comm Chanel Opened; Earpieces 3 (Codename - Magenta) and 5 (Codename - Fury)'_

"Fury?" she asks quietly.

"You look like fucking shit," he says.

"Pardon?"

"You look like you're gonna pass out. You're whiter than a sheet."

"I'm testing out a new beauty regime, don't fucking judge me," Frances says, "especially since you look like a raccoon. When'd you sleep last, Noah's arc?"

"Ha ha," Earl mutters, "anything suspicious down there?"

"Nope, just our dashing undercover agent entering the building. He's cute, right?" Magenta says.

"His body, sure, his personality, fuck no," Earl says. "Plus those cards are something else."

"You and Chroma and Murmur don't get it, powers are cool," Magenta says. "Wally-"

"Magenta!" Earl hisses.

Magenta freezes and looks out the door, spotting a small armored car pull up to the sidewalk, window open.

"Everybody get down!" Magenta screams, and a metal pole flies into her hands before she can think about what she's doing.

* * *

 

The second Tony hears Frances scream, he's already yelling at Joey to guard the jewelry, and he sprints into the crowd.

In seconds, people are screaming and running, and Edwin appears at Tony's side, quickly followed by Jeremy, who's loosening his tie.

"Where's Luther and Amanda?" Tony yells over the chaos.

"Three o'clock!" Edwin yells.

Tony spots them towards the exit, Mercy guiding them.

Michael silently appears next to Tony, a scalpel in his hand. 

Girder taps his comm. "Chroma, Magenta, you two okay?"

"Get your butts over ear and we might be!" Roy says.

"On our way!" Girder says. "Fury, no headshots."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Earl says.

"I'm team leader, do as I say," Tony says.

"Who died and made you leader?" Jeremy asks.

"Oh my fucking g-d, we're about to die, get your asses over here!" Frances screams.

"Go, go!" Tony leads the group through the ballroom, past knocked over tables and stool, stepping over shards of broken champagne glasses.

Frances and Roy are shielding themselves with a severed car door glowing faintly with Magenta's powers.

Tony spots the five armed attackers, one massive man armed with nothing but his fists, a smaller man with a machine gun, a woman with twin pistols, a man with a semi-automatic, and a woman with a shotgun.

"My lady, gentlemen, care to dance?" The woman in the middle asks.

Tony covers the back of his neck and skids next to the car door, shielding the others, who follow close behind him.

A few shots bounce off his metal skin, and he hears the woman swear.

"Murmur, take the woman with the shotgun, Folded Man, take the semi-automatic, Double Down, get the woman in the middle, Chroma, Magenta, take the big one. I'll get the one with the machine gun! Fury, air support," Girder says, "go!"

* * *

 

As the police cars begin to drive away, Amanda Waller surveys her team.

They performed exceptionally under pressure (shame they couldn't rob banks with that much coordination), and without Amanda supervising them, they treat each other in a completely different way.

In the back of the ambulance, Tony sits with his knees up, and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Fury sits next to him, his elbow resting on the wall.

Murmur's next to Fury, rhythmically hitting his head against a metal drawer. 

Magenta is stretched out across the floor, her head in Fury's lap, and an emergency blanket folded around her shoulders.

Double Down flutters some cards around Magenta's feet, while Folded Man slumps over next to him.

Chroma leans out the end of the ambulance a cigarette in hand. He takes a puff before passing it around.

Tar Pit sits outside the ambulance, breathing in and out, watching steam form in the air.

"That was awesome." Magenta sits up. "I can't believe it. We did it."

"Saving a villain doesn't make us heroes," Tar Pit says. "I don't know what Waller wants with us, but we're never gonna be like the Flash, or Piper, or the Rogues."

"We won a fight," Magenta says. "That counts for something."

"I don't feel like a winner. I thought I was glad to be out of prison, but this ain't freedom. This is just..." Double Down trails off.

"I'd choose this over Warden Wolfe any day," Folded Man says. "Waller's protecting people. He was just a bastard who got his kicks by making our lives hell."

"Eddy's right," Girder says. "We're out now, all of us. We have to have each other's backs. We did fuckin' good in there. We need to stick together."

"Like the Rogues?" Fury says, sarcastically. 

"Like Suicide Squad?" Magenta asks.

"No. We aren't like them. We're not that good; not yet. But we'll do more missions, and we'll get better. Are you people in?" Girder says.

The others agree, and Murmur nods, and just like that, the conversation devolves into chaos as they chat and cuss and poke around at the drawers of the ambulance.

Murmur pulls out a pair of surgical scissors, and Magenta gushes about him giving her a haircut, while Chroma points out that Magenta would look good with bangs, and Amanda decides it's time to step in.

She peels herself away from Luther's side while he speaks to the news on the phone.

"Your team was effective," he says as she walks away.

"Effective at raising my blood pressure, that's for damn sure," Amanda says. She smiles, but keeps walking. 

"Take care, Amanda," he says.

Amanda stops, then starts again. "Goodnight, Mr. Luther."


	4. The McDonald's Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The villains call each other by their first names, except for Murmur, who they call Murmur, while Amanda calls them by their code names.

Amanda never should've let them ride in a van. Her van, to be specific.

She wants to kick herself, when she asked if they were hungry, she was directing her question towards Folded Man, recalling he was diabetic, but five seconds later Magenta, Chroma, and Tar Pit are chanting "McDonalds, McDonalds!" , while Girder pumps his fist in time with their chants from the passenger seat.

"I'm fucking starving," Fury says.

"Starving for dick!" Magenta says.

The others turn to look at her.

She puts a hand up, and waves. "Hi!"

"My blood sugar's getting low, can we stop soon?" Folded Man asks politely.

"Yes." Amanda fiddles with her rearview mirror. "Do you have all necessary supplies?"

"Yes, ma'am."

When Amanda was told she was going to be working for Lex Luther’s party, she at least expected to be given a car, any car, separate from her team, but an hour later, she had Girder in the passenger seat next to her, with Murmur, Fury, and Magenta in the back seat, Folded Man, Chroma, and Double Down in the far back, while Tar Pit sits quietly in the trunk.

If Amanda were to get pulled over, she wasn't even gonna try to explain to the cops what always going on, she'd probably just hold up her government ID badge and middle finger.

Oh well, she'd rather deal without 20-something drive thru operator than a cop.

She took the next exit on the highway, and avoided giving Girder a death glare when he turned on the modern rap station.

"Hope you like Kid Cudi," he says.

"There's certainly worse music," Amanda replies. "If anyone white comes on, I'm turning it off."

Girder smiles. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 

Edwin Gauss is a very intelligent man.

As a child, his parents believed him exceptional; called him high-functioning, book smart, a genius, even.

"He's not that good with other children," they'd say.

Socially awkward, quiet, insensitive.

He wanted to rebel, but every step outside his comfort zone scared him. He graduated from MIT, and any happiness in his accomplishment was marred by his fear of what was next.   
He didn't want to be a scientist, it bored him, but he got a job anyway, and his own shithole apartment and worked his 9-5, and when he came home he watched pretty nature documentaries while stoned out of his mind, and fed his cat and then, three months later, he was in a rickety prison bus, bound for Iron Heights. That part of his life was a blur. A spec.

Every time Amanda's van lurched he felt like he was on that bus.

"You alright, man?" Roy says.

"Huh? Yeah. Spacing out," Edwin offers, not making eye contact. "This is... nothing like prison."

"I know, right? Like holy shit, we're getting food, exercise. We ain't nowhere near that warden," Roy says. "What are you gonna do?"

"What do you mean?"

"When we're free. When we get a phone, some fuckin' cash, y'know?"

"A book," Edwin says.

"A book?" Roy repeats.

"A book. An actual book. I don't give a damn what book it is, I'd read an auto-repair manual at this point. Just... a book." Edwin looks at Roy. "Let me guess: art supplies?"

"Fuck yeah. And a tangle."

"A tangle?" Edwin makes a fleeting second of eye contact. "As in, the autism toy?"

"I mean, weird flex," Roy says.

"You're autistic," Edwin says.

"You got a problem with that?" Roy asks in a tone of voice that suggests he very much has a problem with anyone who has a problem with him.

"No, I-" Edwin looks away. "I'm just... glad that I'm not the only one."

"Everyone in this car is autistic, honey, and mentally ill, and secretly a little bit gay, and our parents didn't love us. That's why we're all together following her orders and going to McDonalds at 2 A.M.," Francis says cheerfully.

Everyone in the car turns towards her, with the exception of Amanda.

"She's not wrong," Amanda says. "I've seen y'all's files."

"Glad I'm not the only fag." Earl leans back in his seat.

"I think you might be," Jeremy says.

Earl flips him off.

"Why do I get the feeling those two are gonna fuck?" Amanda mutters.

"Cause they are," Tony mutters back.

Earl aims a swift kick at the bottom of Tony's seat.

"Ow!"

"Can we put on some good fucking music?" Roy asks, changing the subject.

"What even is this?" Edwin asks.

"Oh, you sweet, innocent, child," Jeremy mutters.

"God, yeah, why do they even play 6ix9ine?" Tony leans forward. "Suggestions?"

"Catch a hoe right by her toe," Francis sings softly. "If she ain't fuckin' me and Nicki-"

"No country. Play the 80's station," Earl says, interrupting Magenta's singing.

Tony looks at Amanda for approval.

She shrugs. "No country."

"Beyoncé didn't happen to get her own station while we were in prison, did she?" Roy asks.

"Station 16," Amanda says.

"Fuck yeah," Francis says.

Tony changes the station, and Edwin lets his shoulders relax when the sounds of Single Ladies fill the van.

Murmur signs something quickly, and Earl snorts.

"What'd he say?" Francis asks.

"Nothin'."

Francis fixes her halfway serious glare on Murmur.

"Tell me."

"He says it's nothin'."

"I always find out," she whispers.

Murmur signs again.

"He says he's shakin'," Earl says.

"How much longer 'till we get there?" Edwin asks.

"Longer if you keep asking."

* * *

 

Amanda pulls into the Drive-Thru lane slowly, sending a silent apology to the unassuming man in the pick-up truck that pulls in behind her. She turns the music down, ignoring the various cries of protest.

"Do not talk over each other, understood?" Amanda says. "It'll be hours until we get back to the base. Get enough food so I don't have to hear you people complaining."

"Got it," Girder says. "Are you paying for this or..."

"Our federal government is paying for this."

"Sick!" Magenta yells.

Amanda adjusts the rear view mirror to look at Murmur.

"We have a liquid supplement waiting for you at the base. Can you order anything that will work with your feeding port?" She asks Murmur.

He signs quickly.

"He says he's in the mood for a milkshake," Fury says.

"Good enough."

Amanda pulls up to the speaker, and rolls her window down.

"Hi, I'm Katie, welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you?"

"Hello, Katie, we have a large order. I'll take a Filet-o'-fish with medium fries and a Diet Coke." Amanda looks at Girder.

"Being a good Catholic today?" He asks.

"That's subjective. What do you want?"

"I'll have a double cheeseburger meal with a Coke and an M&M McFlurry," he says, leaning into Amanda's personal space so Katie can hear him.

"Snack size or regular?" Katie asks.

"Regular." Girder grins at Amanda.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"Magenta?"

"Can I get a Happy Meal?" She asks.

"Fine." Amanda can feel the headache coming on.

"I'll take a chicken nugget happy meal with chocolate milk!" Magenta yells.

"Sure thing, sweetie, would you like a My Little Pony toy or an action figure toy?"

"Ew. Action figure!"

"Got it. Next?"

Fury turns to Murmur, who finger spells lightning fast words.

Amanda is almost certain Fury's confused, but he's still trying.

"Uh, large strawberry milkshake, and I'll have chicken tenders and a Dr. Pepper," Fury says.

"Disgusting," Double Down mutters.

"I hate you," Fury replies.

"Six or four piece?" Katie asks.

Amanda isn't sure if she can hear the conversation inside the car, but she doesn't care enough to tell anyone to stop talking.

"Six please. With medium fries," Earl says.

"Got it. Next?"

"Buttermilk crispy chicken salad and a Coke," Chroma says.

"Cheeseburger with only ketchup and medium fries and a sprite," Folded Man says politely.

"McRib with fries and a vanilla shake," Double Down says.

"Got it, is that everything?" Katie asks.

"Yes."

"Alright, that'll be 52 dollars even at the first window," Katie says.  
Amanda thanks her, and pulls forward.

When she comes to a stop, she sees that Amanda is a pretty, blonde 20-something who gives Amanda a small smile before she spots Girder and the others and freezes in place, her hand hanging in midair.

Amanda places the government issued credit card in the woman's hand, and gives her the least threatening smile she can muster given the circumstances.

"Busy night?" She asks.

"Yep... b-busy," Katie says, swiping the card before nearly throwing back at Amanda.

"Y-your food'll be at the next w-window," Katie stutters.

Amanda pulls forward, peering into the crowded restaurant through the window.

Employees scramble around like mice, and customers mob the counters.

The back of the van quickly devolves back into conversation, but Girder focuses on Amanda instead of the others.

"Thank you," he says.

"I'm flattered, but this ain't my money," she replies.

Girder snorts. "I mean, for springing us from prison." He lowers his voice, "I know we aren't exactly Suicide Squad, but we aren't gonna fuck this up. I promise."

"I'm not worried. You're fucking messes, all of you, but you are capable. The others are lucky to have you, Girder. You're a natural leader," she says. "You take orders well."

"Tony, ma'am. You can call me Tony," he says.

She considers for a second, then looks him in the eye.

"Amanda," she says, "you may call me Amanda."

"Amanda."

"Here's your order!" A teenage boy, no older than 16, slides the windows open, barely giving Girder- Tony, a second look.

He starts handing Amanda bags, which she checks, before promptly passing them back for her passengers to sort out.

She sets hers next to her seat, and when all drinks have made their way to a (questionable) cup holder, and the bags to the intended recipient, she pulls away from the restaurant.

She knows the route back by heart, she'd drive it with her kids every summer.

"What toy did you get?" Tony asks Magenta, turning around and he licks a spoonful of his McFlurry.

Magenta excitedly roots around in her box, and pulls out a plastic bag. She rips it open eagerly.

Amanda glances in her mirror at just the right time, watching as Magenta pulls out a tiny plastic figure, meant to be the Flash mid-punch.

"Fuck," Magenta mutters slightly. She rolls down her window, tossing it out.

"Hey- oh, fuck it," Amanda mutters.

Magenta grabs an apple slice out of her box. "Shoulda gone for the My Little Pony."

Amanda silently wishes for the rest of the car ride to be quiet and uneventful, when a knock from the back of the car startled her.

"Guys? I think I fell asleep. Are we gonna get food soon?" Tar Pit asks, voice muffled from the trunk.

Tony and Amanda look at each other.

"Turn around?" He asks.

"Turn around." She sighs.

 


	5. Back to base-ics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team exolore their new living quarters while Murmur reflects on his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Murmur's backstory has been changed quite a bit. He's not schizophrenic, and he didn't kill people because he wanted to, he has sever religious OCD, and killed in self defense. He sewed his mouth because he didn't want to say anything potentially blasphemous.

The base is almost homey, in a way. Upstairs, there were 8 rooms with a bed, a dresser full of plain clothes, a mirror, and a chair. No artwork or personalization, just a note on the door saying who the room belonged to. Two gender neutral bathrooms sat on either side on a long hallway where the rooms' doors were. Downstairs, their was a plain living room with couches, chairs, and a television, as well as a kitchen. There was a 9th bedroom downstairs, much bigger than the others.

"That's mine, when I join you for missions," Amanda says. "The government building where I work is next door. You will get another mission tomorrow. More supplies are downstairs, and the fridge is stocked. Cameras are in every room. Don't leave this building."

Amanda shut the door behind her, leaving the villains standing in the living room.

"This looks like the house from Shameless," Jeremy says.

"I'm gonna go find my room!" Francis says, hurrying upstairs with Earl, Roy, and Edwin on her heels.

Jeremy makes a B-line for the kitchen, disappearing behind a floral print wall.

Joey sits down on a couch with a groan. "That trunk did a number on my back."

"Old man," Tony says, plopping down next to him.

They ignore Murmur, like always.

Sometimes, some days, Michael Christian Amar feels strong. He feels like every other prisoner, every other villain. He feels ruthless, and proud, like he could take over the world.

Most days, he's grateful for his mask, how it hides his face from the people he is nothing like, the people who scare and disgust him.

The cops called him schizophrenic, crazy. They wouldn't understand him if they tried, because they threw around OCD like it was why there wives kept the house like Oprah was visiting, and it made Michael's skin itch.

"Crazy people don't kill in self-defense," the cops said, "he did it on purpose."

And the voice in Michael's head, the one he'd heard for so long it became less of a command, and more like a second heartbeat, whispered in rhythm with Michael's rapping foot, and the words spilled out of his mouth as fast as he could say them. "I stabbed him, I didn't mean to, he had a knife, god forgive me," he said. "I'm not crazy, I have scrupulosity."

The voice pulled back, and for a second, a lovely, peaceful second, Michael felt nothing but the relief of letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"What the fuck is that?"

And at that moment, Michael realized exactly where he was, what he'd done, and he bowed his head and prayed. Begged.

But he couldn't to it right. Sometimes, Michael wondered if he was capable of being right. Of being at peace.

Those seconds of relief, though few and far between, were the reason Michael awoke each morning, and the reason he went to bed each night.

His God had almost certainly disowned him, but who was he to assume? To give up?

Michael doesn't want to stand and think, so he trudges over to the kitchen, his hand hovering over his feeding tube.

He spots Jeremy, holding a six-pack of bud light in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other, but Jeremy scurries out of the kitchen as soon as he spots Michael.

Michael walks to the fridge and pulls out a syringe labeled "liquid meal: property of Murmur."

"Do you put that in your stomach?" Magenta's shrill voice pierces through Michael's head.

He nods yes, and pulls up his shirt, attaching the massive syringe to the tube that pokes out from right above his belly button.

Magenta's watching, he can feel her eyes, but he ignores her.

"So... how's your day going?" she asks.

Michael turns to stare at her. He doesn't move, or say anything.

Two parts of his brain fight for control. The part that wants her to go away, and crawl in bed and cry, and the part that wants more than anything to talk to someone.

His lips don't open, they can't, he did his stitches so tight that nothing short of a burning hot knife can cut through it, but Michael speaks anyway. "Long," he tries to say. It comes out sounding like a gurgle, a grunt. "Yours?"

"Good. I mean, that Flash toy but a fucking damper on it, but I hadn't had French fries in a fat minute. I missed them. How was the shake?" she says.

Michael wonders how she understood him, but he finds himself grateful she does.

"Creamy." It sounds even less like a word when it leaves his throat, but Magenta giggles a sinister giggle.

"That's what she said," Magenta gets out, before dissolving into giggles at her own joke. When she recovers her composure, she pretends to wipe a tear away from her eye. "Ah, man. Y'know, you're pretty fun to talk to. I mean, considering the whole..." she gestures to her own mouth.

"Thank you," Michael tries to say.

"You're welcome. So, why'd you do it?" she asks.

Michael tries to think, think about that moment in the police station bathroom, a cop banging on the door, which he barricaded with a shelf. He held the curved needle in his left hand, and silver lined thread in his right.

"Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil," he repeated, until the pain became to great, and he could speak no more.

Michael wasn't sure if he'd planned to take his sight and hearing as well, but maybe he'd be better off.

He looks up at Magenta, and sighs. "I don't know," he says, and once again wonders if she can truly hear what he means to say behind the noises that crawl from his throat.

"That's ok. I don't know why I did most of the shit I did. But, hey, now I'm here. And so are you. So, you wanna watch some football?" she asks.

He wants to smile, and he does, for a second, then shakes his head.

"Me neither. But, nothing else is on. C'mon, lets go!" She grabs his arm, and pulls Michael towards the living room.

Michael goes to pull away, but she turns towards him and gives him a dazzling smile, one he hasn't seen in years.

He feels his eyes light up, and he follows close behind her.


End file.
